Evening Walk

for Kamau

Washington Square, Sunday evening,

the riptide of strollers

searching for the stray wonder

cloud-clustered round a tree-ricked sky,

the chill of fall

here life takes time

on one side a tap-dancer

sweet in the smoky dullness of his brain

blows his blues out on an empty bottle

eyes-half-open,

he woogies down to meet his partner,

they share one spaced-out smile

in the centre of the dried-out fountain

an oriental youth psyches himself up

so far from home

Kumite!

The crowd begins to jeer,

he walks over to his bundle

takes out a cross-bow

and flings a challenge in the air,

the crowd applauds

old men bump through

infants mothed in pink and blue

biting the edges of fingernails

the crowds crisscross on the centrefold,

hard night descends on Washington Square;

park gates close at midnight

so un-scissor the ball in the crotch of the pocket,

the way’s ahead

the traffic lights say: “W A L K”

© Cynthia James – 2013-09-21